


Little Sister

by fadeverb



Series: Mortal Lives [5]
Category: In Nomine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadeverb/pseuds/fadeverb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a human who knows about angels can be weird. Being a human with angels for siblings can be even weirder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Sister

**Author's Note:**

> In my continuity, this fits in somewhere after the events of _Waking Up Is Hard To Do_. However, it contains spoilers for nothing later than _Second Act_.

There are weird things about having parents who work for God. Not like missionaries or pastors, but in the direct sense, where sometimes angels stop by for lunch or in the middle of the night to do laundry or to hide out from the cops for a week. To begin with, there are the aforementioned angels, who are good people, but...strange. If humans think in clouds and colors, angels think in straight lines and sounds; you can translate between the two, but it's not the same. To continue, it means my parents sometimes call in sick at work and then disappear for a few days, and show up later with ripped clothing or stories they can't tell until I'm "older". It's better now that I'm old enough that I know what's going on, but there's still a lot they won't tell me.

The weirdest thing about having parents who work for God, though, is that I occasionally find out I have a sibling I never knew about before.

"Maharang," says the girl, putting out a hand for me to shake in such a formal way it's easy to see she's new to Earth. She looks like my sister, or at least like my theoretical sister, with my father's eyes and my mother's nose. I stopped finding it creepy around the third time it happened. "Except my Role name is Zoe, so I should go by that." She adds, in a confidential tone, "It was #223 for girls' names in this country during my birth year. Did you know there are three different spellings for Jasmine above mine on that list? You'd think they'd choose one and go with it."

"Kevin," I say, and shake her hand properly. "I guess you're my new little sister, huh?"

"That's the Role." I've had older brothers and sisters, and one younger brother currently off at a "special advanced learning program" while he slays demons in northern Canada, but this is the first little sister I've acquired. She looks as serious as they usually do when they first arrive, ready to leap into the complex world of being human with all the dedication they show to any task set before them by an Archangel. I guess if an Archangel started giving me jobs, I'd pay a lot of attention to doing them right too.

"I'm sure you'll do fine," I say, and since it's the first time I've ever had a little sister and I'm not sure what I should do with a twelve-year-old girl who's still getting the hang of tricky concepts like gravity and watching for cars when crossing the street, I say, "...ice cream?"

Maharang-called-Zoe smiles up at me. "Sounds marvelous," she says.

Most of the afternoon's spent with getting to the ice cream shop (the kid knows more about cars than I do, from the sorts of questions she asks about how my old beater works), having ice cream (with a full quiz on all the classes I'm taking in college, none of which are very interesting in the first semester of my frosh year anyway), and driving back the long way past various parts of the city. "My classes don't start for another week," Zoe says. "Will you come see me again the weekend before they begin?"

"Sure," I say. "I've never had a little sister before. It ought to be fun."

"I've never had a big brother before either," she says, and if we're human and proto-angel together in the car, brother and sister still seems about right to me.

#

On Friday night I show up at the house nearly at midnight, due to a traffic snarl that turned a two-hour drive into a six-hour one. I find Zoe in the living room, typing away furiously at the laptop she brought with her. We established on our first meeting that she's not from the Archangel Laurence like most of my sudden-siblings, but the Archangel Jean, who I haven't heard much about before. Something to do with science and technology and electricity, though I got bogged down in the explanation. "It's hard to say in English," she finally told me, frustrated. "It makes more sense with _real_ words."

Now she looks up at me, and a moment later she's bounded forward for a tight hug I'm not sure I deserve yet. "I told them they could go to bed and I'd stay up and wait for you," she says, "since I don't need to sleep. I'm catching up on current events in the area. " She lets go to pace around the room in front of me, and I wonder if maybe she's going to turn into an Ofanite, the way my big sister Laura did when she fledged. "Did you know there's this one guy who has a whole website dedicated to the letters he's submitted to the editor at the newspaper here? Except he has weird ideas about what kids should learn in school. Doesn't anyone here want to learn _real_ science?"

"You're going to be the best-informed kid in your class," I say, and catch myself in a yawn. "And to answer your question, no, not everyone wants to learn real science. Some people just want to be told that what they already believe is right."

"Facts don't care if you believe them or not," Zoe says, indignantly. "That's why they're facts. It's how reality works." She pauses, nose wrinkling up. "Unless you count ethereals. They care about whether you believe them or not. And they're technically real too, except in the ethereal sense, and not all of them are actually people, when they're only figments..."

"The question of reality is one that's kept philosophers awake at night for years," I say, and collapse on the couch where I'll be sleeping, now that they've given my old room to the new sister. "You don't need to solve it overnight."

"It shouldn't be so hard," Zoe says, and drops down onto the couch beside me. "It was easier when I had fewer Ethereal Forces. I didn't think so much. But I'm glad to have more! It means I can think about things more clearly, and I'm more likely to get the right answer."

I decide this isn't a good time to tell her that being smart doesn't necessarily mean you learn the right answers better than anyone else. "I need to sleep," I say. "You know, that human thing."

"I know!" She smiles brightly at me, and drops off the couch. "I took a class. They taught us all about it. I'm going to try it myself, some time. I want to see what the Marches are like."

"Wish I could see them," I say. A place where you can imagine things out of nothing, by sheer force of mind? Sounds more interesting than English Comp.

"Don't be silly," Zoe says. "You get to see them every night."

#

Saturday morning. I think. I crack open my eyes and try to figure out why I can't move.

Oh. Because there's a baby angel in the shape of my little sister sitting on my back, typing at her laptop.

"Morning!" Zoe chirps, proving once again that when you don't need sleep, you're a night person and a morning person. "Your parents--I mean, Mom and Dad already went out to do that fair...thing. I'm confused on the details. Apparently there's a bouncy castle since you can't turn off gravity, and these games where people pay money for tickets that they trade in to try to win prizes, even though you could just buy the prizes for cheaper. It's one of those cultural things. They're raising money for the library, which is probably a good idea, so long as they make sure to put lots of good books in there, because I went down to see some of the stuff and you wouldn't _believe_ how out of date some of the science books are."

"Let me guess," I say, when she finally gets off me and lets me up. "You're going to fledge Ofanite?"

"Haven't decided yet," Zoe says. "But I'll admit one of them is a role model. I need to tell you some time about what Kai can do to demons with a sofa cushion and a yo-yo."

"Hold that thought, 'kay?" I stumble into the bathroom with my bag, and get enough hot water running over me to acquire a semblance of wakefulness.

When I step back into the living room, it's to the smell of something cooking. I follow the smell to the kitchen, where I find a plate stacked with biscuits, and laid out beside it a bowl of canned peaches swimming in syrup. "Breakfast!" Zoe says, neatly taking another round of biscuits off the tray. "You wouldn't believe how easy those are to make. Milk, this mix stuff, and instant biscuits! And peaches because fruit is good for human health. I read up on nutrition before I came here to make sure I'd eat right."

"I don't think most kids your age are concerned with nutrition," I say, but I'm not one to turn down hot biscuits when the butter and jam are right in front of me. "You ought to eat a candy bar once in a while. You'll fit in better."

"But I want to set a good example," Zoe says, taking a seat across from me at the table. "I mean, as much as I can while still not looking so weird that demons could pick up on me, but I'm sure there are humans who try to do the right thing to show others how to do it. Right?"

I try to work through how to explain this. It was a lot easier when I just had to deal with my big sister climbing in my window late at night, with a grin on her face and a sword in one hand, no matter that she had a math test in the morning. Being an older sibling is harder. "There are. But most of them end up taking it too far and being so strident that people don't even want to listen. It's not fun to be around someone who always seems to be looking down on you for not doing the right thing. Like...vegetarians who lecture you if you eat meat. They make even people who might have thought eating less meat would be a good idea get annoyed."

"Oh." Zoe stuffs a biscuit into her mouth, no butter or anything, and washes it down with the big glass of milk sitting on the table. "I need to think about this more. It's complicated."

"You want to go to the fair? We can blow a few dollars on tickets, and maybe you'll win a real live candy bar."

"I don't think candy bars are supposed to be alive," Zoe says, so seriously that I'm trying to figure out how to explain _this_ to her when she bursts out giggling. "Yeah, let's go. We can talk on the way!"

In the car, she stares out the window as we drive, watching the ordinary suburbs slide by us. I don't know the area too well, since my parents--our parents, I guess--moved right when I graduated from high school, the better to set up a new sibling introduction. One of the side-effects of needing to slot new family members in every so often is not getting too close to the neighbors, or sticking around long enough that someone starts counting heads. When I was younger I used to mind; now I figure it's good practice for life, because people are always moving anyway. The important people you'll find a way to keep in touch with, and if you don't, guess they weren't important. My little brother the Malakite still sends me postcards. They usually have moose on them. Canada thing.

"So what do you want to fledge when you grow up, if not Ofanite?" It seems like a safe enough topic of conversation, and it's also the kind best had in cars and not in crowds. "Malakite, Elohite, Seraph, Cherub...?"

"You'll laugh," she says, and blushes. I'm not sure I've seen an angel do that before, even a little one.

"No, I won't. Seriously. I'm a human, it's a completely alien concept, how could I find it funny? All the Choirs are pretty cool." Though some are weirder than others; I hate dealing with Seraphim, and aside from my brother, Malakim usually aren't much better. Mercurians and Ofanim are my favorites, and Elohim won't go say something rude unless they have a good reason.

"I want to be a Bright Lilim when I grow up," Zoe declares, and then gives me a quick sidelong glance. She really does believe I'll laugh.

"I've never heard of that Choir," I say, "but there's a lot about Heaven I don't know. I'm not even...you know. Aware, yet." After college, my parents keep telling me. Go get your B.A., and then we'll see about making you a real Soldier of God. I've wanted to be part of that since I was old enough to understand what my parents did, but they have their reasons for wanting me to wait. My dad's told me enough about how he ended up dead when my mom was six months pregnant with me, and how he couldn't come back as a Saint for almost a _year_ , that I can see how they don't want me in the family business right away.

Zoe's quiet for a little bit longer. "It's a very small Choir," she says. "There's not many of them. You know about ordinary Lilim, right?"

"If a stranger comes up and offers to do something for you that you really need, say no and go tell someone right away," I quote. "It's right up there with how to deal with people that everyone likes even though the guy's not all that impressive, and what to do when someone you know starts acting out of character."

"Right. Well. Bright Lilim are what you get when you redeem Lilim. The way you get Cherubim from Djinn, and Elohim from Habbalah." Zoe gives me another quick, uncertain look. "Except Archangels can't make Bright Lilim, not like the other Choirs. You only get them from redeemed demons."

"But you can fledge into one?" I can see why she'd think it was silly to want to be a Choir that usually comes from demons.

"...no. I think. I don't know. No one's ever done it, or if they have, they never wrote it down. I researched it. I _looked_. Even when some relievers were made with personal Forces from different Bright Lilim, and grew up, they still fledged into the ordinary Choirs." She looks unhappy for the first time since I met her. "It's not reasonable for me to want to be one. And that doesn't stop me from _wanting_ it. To want to try to find a way to be that." She stares out the window, and we're pulling into the parking lot outside the school. "My real name means yearning. Desiring. Sometimes I think it would be responsible to be an Elohite, but I don't know if I could be. Not when I keep wanting unreasonable things. It's not responsible of me."

"Hey," I say, and wait until she's looking at me. "Zoe. You're my little sister, so let me tell you this. When my parents decided to have me, they knew it wasn't smart to have a baby when they _knew_ they could be going up against all sorts of evil things and into danger. It was horribly irresponsible. They could've both been killed, or if someone found out what they were, that person could have gone after me to use me against them. But they still went ahead and decided to have a baby, and if they hadn't, I wouldn't be here, so I can't argue with their decision. You can want unreasonable things, and sometimes it turns out well."

"They didn't have any more children, though," she says, such a serious face on a kid. "Not after you. Because they knew it wouldn't be safe."

"No, and instead they ended up with a bunch of angels for kids, all these relievers running around the house, and now they have half a dozen kids, I have a bunch of brothers and sisters I know will come running if I'm ever in trouble, and...they still have me too, someone human. Did they make the right decision? I'm here, so I have to say yes, even if it had everything going against it." I take a deep breath, because there are some things I don't want to get into. "My point is, don't stress about wanting something you can't see a way to. Maybe you'll find a good way to get there. Maybe you'll find a bad way, and learn from it. Or maybe you'll find something that's not what you were looking for, but close enough to get you where you ought to be, and that'll work." I stop again. "Did that even make sense?"

"I understood," Zoe says, and hops out of the car. "Do you think I can get my face painted?"

The answer is yes, though I wouldn't have really guessed she'd go for a unicorn.

#

A new neighborhood means a new church on Sunday, for pretty much the same reason as the move. I stick close to Zoe through the service, and manage to herd her in the right direction when it's time for Sunday School, despite the way she starts making a line towards the fancy sound equipment in the back. "It's wired badly," she whispers to me, as we walk over to the group for _Junior high and up!_ that we both fall into, as not-quite-adults too old for the kiddy classes. "Mannie would be ripping things out and redoing it if he were here. I bet even I could rewire it better."

"Who's Mannie?"

"The one I was a lab assistant for, before. He's a Bright Lilim." The way she refers to him makes me think of some classmates I've had talking about teachers they deemed "hot". That reverential tone only comes up when someone is the subject of a deep and abiding sense of respect, or a major crush. "He's _brilliant_."

"I bet he is," I say. "Nice guy?"

"...well," she says, after a moment's hesitation, "I'm not sure _nice_ is the right word for it. But he's a good person. And very smart."

Sounds like a typical angel, then. And not a Mercurian. I ought to ask more about what Bright Lilim are like, though I can't figure it out from what Zoe's doing. My brother the Malakite was always seeking out evil and honor, my sister the Ofanite was on the track team, and everyone else fledged Mercurian. Zoe, I'm not so sure on. She's bouncy enough to be an Ofanite, serious enough to be a Malakite, friendly enough to be a Mercurian, and sufficiently concerned with working out how things ought to be and how to get them there that I'd even believe her as an early Elohite.

In the big room full of beige carpet that's had punch spilled on it too often, Zoe looks at the cookies suspiciously. "Are these...healthy?"

"No," I say, and pass her one. "Go for it."

#

My cell phone rings in the middle of my afternoon lecture for English Comp, and the professor gives me this glare of death. Like we were all hanging on your words about Chaucer. I've met angels who knew Chaucer, and you, sir, are no Chaucer. Besides, I already read "The Wife of Bath's Tale" back in my lit class senior year of high school. I check the screen, and find it's the home phone. That's not a good sign. I mumble some excuse and ditch the class. There goes my participation grade for the semester.

"Kevin?" Zoe sounds upset, which isn't a good sign. "I have a problem."

"If you've set the kitchen on fire, call 911 first, and then call me back," I say. "And don't stress it too much, Paul did that when he was fourteen and should have known better. You're twelve, so you still have an excuse."

"No, different type of problem," she says. "Dad went out this morning to check on some disturbance, and told me to go to school like usual. But now I'm home and Mom's gone too and neither of them is back yet, and they're not answering the cell phone, and they didn't even leave a note, and I don't know what to do. Should I go check out the direction the disturbance came from? I don't know exactly where it is, but I could go looking nearby."

"Stay right where you are," I say, "and lock the doors, and if anyone you don't know tries to get inside, you go home right away, understood?" I look around the hall, but there's no one else outside of the classrooms right now. "And by that I mean straight to your Heart, and you go find someone...someone big to help you and come look at things. I'll get home as soon as I can."

"Okay," Zoe says, and now she's calm. Does she think I'm going to set everything right? She has more Forces than I do! But...that's what big brothers do, isn't it? Set things right. "I'll be careful. Get here soon."

"As fast as I can," I say, and do my best to turn a two-hour drive into a 90-minute one.

#

When I get to the house, I knock once on the door, then unlock it. "Zoe?" I call, once I'm inside. "You still here?"

She appears in a doorway, peeking around before she runs out to hug me. "I still haven't heard from them," she says, clinging to me like any ordinary kid, not at all like a creature from Heaven sent to Earth to help us poor benighted mortals. "I'm worried. I don't know what to do. I wish I were smarter, or knew more, or _something_."

"Let's try to think about it," I say, and sit down with her at the couch. "Okay. So. Um. We'll think about how responsible people would deal with a situation like this. Mom and Dad would...go investigate quietly, which is what they're doing, and it's possible they haven't been able to call."

"Not either of them? Even to leave a quick message?" Zoe pulls her knees up under her chin. "If Mannie were here, he'd know what to do," she says. "He could track them down with his Song. And if Kai were here, she'd run off in the direction of the disturbance and smite evil until she found them."

"Malakite?"

"No, Ofanite."

Considering my favorite brother and sister? "I can buy that." I put an arm over her shoulder. Come to think of it, that sounds a lot like what either of those two would do. All the Mercurian siblings I have, I'm less sure of, but they'd probably...well. Call for backup, after they figured out if they needed it, with investigation first. "Problem is, you're a reliever and I'm an ordinary human. If we're talking about something that got Mom and Dad...into trouble," dear God let them not be dead, even knowing they'd get to Heaven I want them selfishly here on Earth with me, "then it's not something the two of us can handle."

"We don't have to handle it," Zoe says. "Just get Mom and Dad out of there before anything happens to them, and then call in proper backup with more information. I have the nearest friendly Tether on speed-dial." She stands up to pace around the room. "So we get close, assess the situation, determine an appropriate response, and call in reinforcements as necessary. Perfect. Let's go."

"...um," I say, because while my parents and siblings have come in at all hours with entertaining new stories, the closest I've ever been to a demon was talking to a new-redeemed Cherub who was hanging out in our house for a weekend. "Zoe, you realize... I'm an ordinary human. I don't know how much I can do."   
"The history of this planet comes from ordinary humans doing extraordinary things," she says, and grabs her jacket. "Let's get snappy, big brother."

"Okay," I say, because what else am I supposed to say? No, I don't want to go find my parents who might or might not be in trouble? I'm scared that I might die? I'm scared that _you_ might die, and then what kind of brother would I be? "But I'm in charge, so stick close to me and do what I say."

"That's fair," Zoe says. "You are older."

#

We watch the odometer as I drive. With all the turns and back-tracks I have to make to keep heading in the direction Zoe's pointing me, it's not a very precise measure of distance. "It's around here," Zoe says, "I'm just not sure _where_." She rubs at her face irritably. "It was loud enough, most anyone a mile around should have heard it. Maybe further. But the echoes are gone now. Could you park the car? This might be easier on foot."

I pull up by the curb. This whole area's industrial, and quiet now that it's the end of the day, with factories shut down for the night. "Remember, we're being _careful_. Doesn't do anyone any good if we get into trouble too."

"I know, I know!" Zoe's off like an Ofanite, down the sidewalk while I'm still locking the doors on my car. I catch up with her beside a tortilla factory that still smells like future tacos. "Did you hear that?" she demands.

"If it's disturbance you're talking about... no. I don't."

"Oh. Right. Sorry. But it's from...here. Ish. Not much. Just a teeny little bit. Maybe a few Essence." She stares at the wall in front of us like it might step aside for her. "I could go through in my real form. But I'd need to use Essence to do that, and I couldn't take you with me."

"Let's save that for emergencies, and check the doors first," I suggest. Visions of arrests for breaking and entering swim through my mind. Sure, Mom and Dad would understand, but I'm eighteen now, which means it would go on my permanent record. Besides, what am I supposed to say in my own defense? Sorry, Officer, I was trying to find out if demons kidnapped my parents and kept them in the tortilla factory for unknown reasons. I need to ask Mom and Dad some time how they deal with these situations.

Every door we try is locked. I look at Zoe. "I...didn't plan for this part."

"I refuse to be thwarted by a _door_ ," she says, and a moment later we're at the back door at the loading dock with Zoe peering intently at the card reader. "It would be awfully embarrassing," she says, pulling a pocket toolkit out of her jacket. "I mean, it's just a _door_. We're maybe going up against who knows what, and I should be put off by this? I don't think so." The cover pops off the reader, and she begins fiddling with the wires inside. "Can't guarantee this won't set off the alarms," she says, "but it should get the thing open. I didn't spend much time with the Windies."

"They _steal_ things," I say. The only time I've ever heard angels grumble much about other angels is when my parents' friends complain about how the angels of the Wind will run through and make a mess of a situation that had been well in hand.

"Exactly! So they're good at knowing how to open doors." Zoe stands back, and jiggles the handle. The door swings open. "See?"

"Shh," I say, and take the lead.

The hallway's dark, and pretty soon Zoe's the one ahead of me, one hand in mine, leading me forward. "Through here," she whispers, and pushes open the wide double-doors to the factory floor.

This area's brightly lit. Enough so that I can see my dad sprawled out on the floor, bleeding from the head. Which is where I go all stupid and forget everything about being careful to run across the floor to kneel down by him, leaving Zoe behind me. They'll send him back again if he's dead again... won't they? Do Saints get more than one chance to come back to Earth?

"Kevin," says my mom, and there's a funny sound to her voice, "would you please stand up? He's fine, but he's not going to wake up for a while."

I turn around to find my mom standing next to me. With a gun in her hands, pointed right at me.

Sign number one of Shedite possession: change in personality.

"I don't want to hurt you," she says, and I'm not sure if that's her talking in there, or the Shedite not wanting to fight her for that. "Just stand up and move away. This isn't going to take much longer, and your father will be fine. He went looking into something that wasn't any of his business, but he'll be okay once we're done here and move on."

"And what about my mom? Are you going to leave her too?" My throat hurts. This is the first time I've ever looked at a demon, and it's inside my mother's head.

"Too dangerous to stick around," says the person who isn't my mother, living inside her head. "If I'd known, you can bet I would have chosen someone else to jump into. Now tell me, is your little sister here, or is it just you?"

"I told her to stay at home," I say. I'm not sure if I want to cooperate and get this thing out of her, or find a way to defeat it. I should be trying to find a way to defeat it, but I don't know any ways that don't involve hurting my mom. "I came looking by myself. She's too little to get mixed up in this. "

"Aren't you all," mutters the Shedite, and moves away, the gun still held in my direction. "If my assistant weren't such a clumsy dolt, I could have gotten through this without any trouble, but of course there are always people to come looking. Doesn't anyone know how to mind one's own business?"

"I think being nosy comes with the job," I say, try to keep talking like I'm not scared and wondering where the hell Zoe's gone. If she'd run back home to her Heart to get backup, I think that would have made disturbance for the Shedite to hear, even if I couldn't. This whole factory floor's full of equipment for tortilla-making, and Zoe could be hiding around any of it. As could the assistant the demon mentioned, whoever that might be.

Somewhere in the distance, there's a clatter of equipment, and a shriek that sounds nothing at like Zoe. The Shedite jerks the pistol at me. "Liar," it hisses, through my mother's voice, "you aren't alone," and goes to pull the trigger while I'm trying to run--except it can't, that's my mom in there fighting for me, her hand shakes, the gun jerks out to drop onto the floor, and then--there's something thick and black and terrible in the air, I can't even wrap my mind around it, and then I feel like everything is fine, while my body's going through the motions I'm not controlling. Do I want to reach for that gun? No, I don't, but I'm scrabbling for it on the floor along with my mom, hands out to grab cold steel and I'm not doing it, I'm not even trying to do this, but it feels like I'm the one who's decided I ought to.

Someone behind me (I feel like I ought to know who, but I shouldn't know who, the someone who isn't me who's doing all this knows) shrieks again in a language I don't understand, and I answer in the same language, weird sounds running through my mouth while I'm fighting my mom for possession of the gun. I think I'm going to win. She doesn't want to hurt me.

I don't want to hurt her either, but whatever's inside me wants to--

#

I wake up in my room at home. Okay, my little sister's room, but it used to be mine, for the two weeks between the move and when I went to college. My little brother's there, perched on the end of the bed sharpening his sword and looking more serious than any fifteen-year-old ought to be able to.

"Ow," I say. Followed shortly by, "How did you get here?"

"I got an email from Maharang while I was near a Tether," he says, tucking the sword away under his jacket, no matter that it shouldn't be able to fit there. It's that kind of sword. "About Mom and Dad being missing, and you on the way over. So I got here as soon as I could. And promptly realized I had no idea where you'd gone, so I couldn't do anything but sit here and wait until you got home."

"I think I had--there was a Shedite in me--" It makes me feel sick to even think about that thing inside my mind, trying to make me do things. Even more so that I did what it wanted, couldn't fight it off. "It's out, right? You got it out?"

"Courtesy of a lump on the back of your head, yes," he says. I think he's more worried than he's letting on; it's something about the way he's found a knife to work on sharpening. "And a certain amount of bleeding, but by that point Dad was awake, and he made sure that Shedite didn't try to jump into anyone again. If you'd thought to leave a map," he adds, suddenly more heated, "I could have shown up and helped! Or you could have waited for me to arrive!"

"I didn't know you were coming. I'm sorry."

My brother the Malakite sighs, and spreads his hands. "Humans," he says. "What are you going to do? Always running into situations they're not prepared to deal with, because they're convinced it's the right thing to do." He gives me the usual little brother smile. "It was very honorable. Stupid. But honorable. And on the same note, next time I'll make sure to call and let you know that I'm coming, instead of running for the place once I get email."

I sit up, and find there's a flower propped in a cup of water next to my bed. I think that's from Zoe. "You're just disappointed because there's a demon out there you didn't get to smite."

"Totally! You can't go hiding all the fun from me, Kevin." He grins, and offers me a hand to help me out of bed. My legs still feel shaky, and I'm not sure if that's physical or psychological. "Mom got you healed up once I had a chance to give her back some Essence, so you don't have any excuse for slacking off. Come downstairs before we start dinner without you."

"How's Zoe?" I was expecting to see her when I woke up, if I can be said to have been expecting anything while unconscious. "Is she okay?"

"Oh, she's fine. A little scatter-brained, but you have to expect that of relievers," he says, as if he weren't one himself two years ago. "Make sure to let her know you're not going to be upset with her about the hit on the head."

"I thought I hit--actually, I have no idea, but I assumed I whacked my head against one of those big metal assembly line things," I say, as we head downstairs together. It's reassuring to see that I'm still taller than him.

"Nope. She whacked you over the head to get the Shedite out. Lucky you that it wasn't a tough one, or you might have ended up with some real damage." He pokes me in the ribs. "Not that we'd be able to tell the difference if you got brain-scrambled. Maybe your grades would drop a little."

"So that's why you waited around instead of coming to rescue us. You wanted to make sure my grades would go down, so that you'd have a chance of catching up." I grin at him, and he goes blank-faced for an instant, then grins as he realizes I'm joking. Not the wildest sense of humor, my brother.

Downstairs, Zoe's setting the table, and she looks up as I walk in. "You're awake!" she cries, and rushes forward, leaving a glass un-held in mid-air.

My brother dives in to catch it before it can shatter, with a hasty, "Gravity! Remember the gravity!"

"Right," says Zoe, hugging me tightly. "Gravity. All the dangerous corporeal stuff like that." I hug her back, and realize she's shaking. "So many dangerous things here."

"But we're still all fine," I say.

"Yeah." She steps back, stares up at me with big blue eyes that match my own. "I don't know if I did the right thing. I should have waited for help to show up before running off and making you take me."

"Hey, hey, don't go blaming yourself for this. I agreed to come along, and I didn't even try to tell anyone before we left. I'm the older one here, so I'm responsible, not you. Besides," I say, with a smile to let her know all's forgiven, if there had been anything to forgive, "it all turned out fine in the end, right?"

"I think so," she says. "But I want to do better next time."

"You know what they say," says my brother, leaning against the wall with his arms folded, and I can picture the black wings I've never seen spreading out around him. "Good judgment comes from experience. Experience comes from bad judgment."

"You're just annoyed because you didn't get to smite anything," Zoe says, and wraps her hand tightly in mine. My little sister, there to look out for me when I'm busy looking out for her.


End file.
